


Worship At Your Altar

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Banter, Biting, Bondage, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Kissing, Loving Marriage, M/M, Playful Sex, Rimming, Scent Kink, Teasing, Tenderness, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 17:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Crowley is feeling playful.





	Worship At Your Altar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EssiBunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssiBunny/gifts).

> For Essi's birthday!! Happy birthday! <3

“Ah ah, angel,” Crowley murmured, and he caught Aziraphale’s hands where they reached for his belt, gently pushing them back down to his sides. Aziraphale was sitting back on the plush sofa in the front room, the curtains drawn, a few curtains lit, and he sighed softly as Crowley’s thumbs played over his wrists, tickling the sensitive skin. Silken ropes slithered from the edges of the settee, and Aziraphale let out a bitten back little noise as they coiled serpentine around his wrists, pulling them away from Aziraphale’s waist.

“Oh, goodness,” Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley looked up at his face, no doubt at the pink blush Aziraphale could feel smattered on his rounded cheeks, heating the skin from within. “Are you going to keep me bound, dearest?”

“I’m going to make you let me take care of you,” Crowley said, pressing kisses over the rounded curve of Aziraphale’s belly and following it up to the base of his chest, then upward, between the swells of his chest. “I’m going to worship you from head to toe, angel, wait until you’re so wet you can’t stand it, and then sink into you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale whispered, breathless. “How lovely. Is there some special occasion that prompted such treatment?”

“Hm…” Crowley murmured, his tongue flicking hot and wet over the side of Aziraphale’s neck, and Aziraphale shivered, his eyes fluttering closed, his head tipping back. “Oh, baring your neck for me? I could rip this out, sweetheart.”

“Could you indeed?” Aziraphale replied, tone wry, and Crowley’s teeth came down. Aziraphale let out a sharp, gasping whine, feeling the sudden sting of Crowley’s teeth against the plush skin at his neck, feeling him _suck_, and oh, oh, he would bruise, he would _bruise!_ “You fiend!”

“I don’t _need_ an occasion, angel,” Crowley all but crowed, his tone sing-song, his fingers digging into the flesh of Aziraphale’s thighs, digging in, and Aziraphale gasped at the sensation, of Crowley’s warm, sinuous body curled up against the curves of Aziraphale’s own. “Can’t I just love on you? Love on this body, _all this body_, all for me? Worship you like you’re made up on an altar for me?”

“Love on me?” Aziraphale repeated, although he sounded more hazy and indistinct than genuinely indignant. “Darling, I won’t be able to go outside for the next three days, with a love bite like that on my neck!” Even as he spoke, he spread his legs a little wider apart, doing his best to grind up against Crowley’s crotch, and Crowley laughed, his fingers playing over his side’s, dragging at the flesh.

“Don’t worry,” Crowley purred, his low and sultry voice going straight through Aziraphale’s libido, leaning in and nipping at Aziraphale’s earlobe, his tongue flicking up around the shell of Aziraphale’s ear. “I’ll keep you entertained.”

“Entertain me, will you, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, sighing as Crowley began to line kisses upon the column of his neck, his hands grabbing at and playing with him, over his thighs, his sides, his chest, _massaging_, and oh, oh, what wonderful tremors it sent through him, what delicious streaks of heat! “Will you leave me— oh, oh, my dear! –awash in a sea of pleasure? Drown me in it?”

“I’ll _marinate_ you in it,” Crowley said, dragging his tongue down the line of Aziraphale’s well-cushioned sternum and making him gasp. “And devour you for dinner.”

“Not dessert?”

“No, no, sssweetheart,” Crowley murmured, slithering lower, and he breathed hot over Aziraphale’s aching cunt, making his clit twitch. He could feel himself growing wetter as Crowley laid more attentions on him, lavishing such pleasure on his skin, his body, and he felt so open, so eager for Crowley to thrust within him, to fill him as he did so completely—! “_This_ss is desssert, and I’m not going to touch it until I’ve finished the main course. But maybe I’ll just…”

Crowley leaned in closer, and Aziraphale stared down at him, drawing in shallow little breaths as he watched Crowley’s mouth come closer and closer, and then Crowley’s nose brushed against the side of his clit, his mouth buried against the wet opening of Aziraphale’s cunt, but his lips were closed, his tongue still in his mouth. The brush against his clit was _tantalising_, and he opened his mouth to complain, but then Crowley _inhaled_, he heard it, and he felt his skin burn with embarrassment, with hot humiliation, that Crowley should take in his scent so plainly, so _obviously_!

“Mmm,” Crowley hummed, nuzzling at him, and Aziraphale gasped, tugging at the bindings on his wrists, aching to tangle his fingers in Crowley’s hair and take his pleasure of him. “Smells _good_, angel.”

“I do wish you’d taste,” Aziraphale bit out, and Crowley laughed, nuzzling against Aziraphale’s inner thighs as he leaned back on his heels, mouthing the inside of the plush flesh on the sides of Aziraphale’s knees, down over his thick calves, his teeth nipping and catching, and Aziraphale shuddered, clenching. Heat was building in his very core, little shocks of pleasure rushing up his spine as Crowley kissed and sucked over his calves, his knees, and oh, it had no right to be so overwhelming, so delightful!

“Used to _yearn_ over these plush little ankles,” Crowley murmured, kissing the top of Aziraphale’s foot, and Aziraphale shivered as his mouth played over the edge of his ankle, nipping at the pale skin. “You’d hitch up your trousers, show them off, so that I could see the pretty little clocking than ran from this ankle all the way up to this _mouthwatering_ calf… Could sink my teeth into you, angel.”

“I wish you’d sink something else in,” Aziraphale mumbled, rather losing hold of his usual careful elocution. Crowley laughed, and then he slid up again, burying his mouth against Aziraphale’s belly, nuzzling against the curve of it, clutching at the flesh. “You like my belly?”

“_Love_ it,” Crowley said, nipping at the white flesh, and then he nuzzled against a patch of stretch marks on the side of his belly, kissing the reddened skin and making Aziraphale softly sigh. “Could kiss it all night.”

“_Don’t_.”

“_Cruel_ to me, angel,” Crowley complained, dragging his teeth over the flesh and then flicking his tongue over the crease where his thighs met his belly, making Aziraphale gasp. “I like these too,” he said, kissing over Aziraphale’s thigh and then swapping to the other, but then he clambered into Aziraphale’s lap, winding his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and curling his fingers in Aziraphale’s hair.

“Let my hands free, darling,” Aziraphale said, tone coaxing, and Crowley laughed, catching him in a kiss. Aziraphale moaned softly as Crowley’s tongue played dexterously against his own, and then he leaned in, playing his tongue over Aziraphale’s nipple, suckling playfully at it, _squeezing_, palpating, and oh, oh, he was _aching_, how he wanted, how he wanted! “Crowley, please, I want to touch you, I want you to touch me properly—”

“I _am_ touching you, Aziraphale,” Crowley said sweetly, and he pressed Aziraphale’s breasts together, sliding his tongue into the space between them, and Aziraphale shuddered, his head tipping back as he dragged and pulled at the silken ribbon holding his wrists. He could break it, of course, but there was some secret ecstasy in being so bound, in being at Crowley’s _mercy_… “I’d love to fuck between these, would you like that, angel, hm? If I slid my cock between these tits of yours and came all over you? Spattered myself on your chin, your mouth, your prim little glasses?”

“_Crowley!”_

“Gorgeousss,” Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale shivered when he felt Crowley’s still-clothed prick grind against his belly, felt the expensive fabric of the demon’s trousers press against him. “Love your tits, angel, love your belly, your thighs, your calves, your _arms_, your hands—”

“My arse?”

“Your _arssse!”_ Crowley moaned, and fell to the floor between Aziraphale’s parted thighs, shoving his feet up onto the sofa so that he could push his legs wider apart, and he fell between Aziraphale’s abruptly parted cheeks, nuzzling against his cunt even as he massaged Aziraphale’s arse cheeks, and suddenly the world dematerialised around them, making itself anew.

Aziraphale was sprawled on his belly on the bed, his elbows beneath him, his wrists tied together in line with his forehead, and Crowley was driving his mouth between the wide spread of Aziraphale’s cheeks, flicking his tongue around the pink rim of Aziraphale’s arse, suckling and nipping at the edge. His fingers spread wide over the flesh of his arse, and when Crowley delivered a harsh slap to one of his buttocks, Aziraphale keened, shoving his knees apart as best he could and trying his best to grind back against Crowley’s prick.

“I love this arssse, angel,” Crowley moaned, sloppily sucking at the patch of sensitive skin between Aziraphale’s arse and his cunt, making him heave in a whimpering gasp. “Plush, fat, round, and _good_,” Crowley hissed, and nipped at his arse, laying bites and kisses all over the flesh of it, and Aziraphale was _sopping_, feeling his lips pink and wet and ready, feeling himself open and wanting… A pearl of wetness slid down his thigh, and he heaved in a gasp, squeezing his hands into fists.

“Please, Crowley, oh, please, I feel very worshiped indeed, do take mercy on me, do take me—”

“You asssk so _nicccely_, angel,” Crowley murmured, licking a stripe up his spine, and then his trousers were suddenly open, and his cock slid into Aziraphale’s cunt. Crowley was thick and heavy within him, and Aziraphale moaned, trying to press himself back for more, and Crowley gave it to him, oh, he gave it to him, made himself a little wider, pressed himself in right to the root, as if Aziraphale was a _sheathe_ for him—

“On my back, Crowley, please, please—”

“On your back, huh, sweetheart?” Crowley asked, tone mocking, but he flipped Aziraphale over, shoved his knees up to his shoulders and drove into him with sharp, wet slapping sounds as he fucked in, and Aziraphale gasped and cried out, feeling Crowley’s body against his own. “This what you want, hm? Or do you want me to…?”

Crowley’s hand pressed between them, fingers brushing over Aziraphale’s clit, and Aziraphale yowled, hooking his bound hands around Crowley’s neck and hauling him down to kiss his neck, and Crowley went obediently, kissing and biting at his neck even as he fucked him harder, harder, oh—!

“Three days, you said,” Aziraphale moaned.

“However long you want, angel,” Crowley promised, and pressed his thumb against Aziraphale’s clit, making his hips jump, making him gasp and moan. “Gonna fuck you sweet and long and _tender_. Gonna worship you, yeah? Pray at this pretty little altar?”

“Harder,” Aziraphale moaned, and Crowley laughed as he obeyed.


End file.
